


Spotlight crime

by Pinaq



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Deepthroating, Drugs, Gunplay, M/M, Mind Rape, Poisoning, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 14:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinaq/pseuds/Pinaq
Summary: Mirage decides to punish the one that stole his spotlight and Bloodhound is weirdly into it. (Well, at first)





	Spotlight crime

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the mistakes! English is not my first language but I'm trying!

Mirage was always thirsty for the attention.

He lived for it. He got addicted to it. The spotlight, respectful handshakes, congratulations, quiet laughs from his team whenever he said something silly while killing the enemy, it was his kind of drug.

At first, everything he did was for his family. They were short on money and his mother wasn't able to work, even if she wanted to. He still clearly remembers his first battle, how disgusted he was when the blood splashed in waves into his face, how full of terror and fear were faces of the enemy's, how long he cried mumbling "I'm so sorry..." under his breath...It was a nightmare. But he kept on fighting. He had to. He was doing it for the ones he loved. Even when his fingers were chopped off he still didn't stop thinking about his siblings.

"Fucking Bloodhound" - Mirage hissed through his teeth narrowing his eyes, his cold stare falling at the new team member.

He used to be scared. He used to shiver at every little touch. He used to be fragile as a crystal heart. He used to care. 

He used to.

Shortly, his mind was consumed by the blood of his enemies as it brainwashed him whole. It was all he could find the joy in. He bowed as the other congratulated him on another victory. It was sick. He knew that but he still couldn't help but smile at the dead bodies on the floor. The spotlight was his. He was the one that deserved the attention as the spine of the opponent bend into unnatural shapes such as butterflies or spiders.

He was special.

So why was the unkept bushman more popular than him? Why the others smiled at him happily while all of his response was just a nod back? So what if he was wealthy? A lot of people were. So what if his face was unknown? He wasn't that unique. He wasn't worth the spotlight... Not his spotlight.  
Mirage thought that the rumors and quiet whispers about the mysterious persona would stop after a week, that they would all just give up and talk about him instead.  
But they still talked about that stupid bird. It was driving Mirage crazy. It got him sleepless at night and nervous at day.  
His hands were always shaking with anger and disbelief.

His hands held a gun at peace looking for a target, his mind wandering off  
He hated the fact that this whole situation got him thinking about a person that is not himself to the point of losing battles one after another. He needed to do something about it but a plain kill wouldn't be able to satisfy him. He needed to corrupt him from the inside.  
His hands pulled the trigger as the enemy fell on the ground making him grin.  
He knew exactly what to do...

...

"Hey Fella" - His laugh filled the forest they were in just before the shorter one was tackled into the ground, a syringe with an unknown substance now deep in his skin making him feel nauseous. His eyes going wide at the view of his teammate giggling with the now empty syringe in his hand. Bloodhound's vision spinning, mind unable to focus he hissed out: "I always knew your pride was just an illusion, they cherish you happily, they cherish a dirty traitor..."

As the mask fell to the ground Bloodhound's face was now exposed. Mirage held the other's gaze and dragged the old wingman slowly down Bloodhound’s face in a cruel parody of caress. A slight smile curved his lips as he lowered the weapon and lunged forward with the speed of light. He grabbed Bloodhound's face, his thumb digging in brutally just above the jaw getting another hiss in response.

"You know what was in the syringe?" Mirage chuckled at him holding his face in place. 

Bloodhound's eyes narrowed "The Atlantic poison" He replied, his expression showing disgust. "I could recognize that smell everywhere"

"It's been four minutes already," Mirage looked at his watch. "after thirty minutes you'll be unable to move completely." exited shivers ran through his body. "And after another eight" He lowered his tone "You'll die." Another laugh escaped his lips. Mirage knew that Bloodhound fears death. He always talks big about his God and the afterlife, but the little shivers he made while the bullet hit just a few inches away from his head gave him away. "Let's make a deal" Mirage ran his fingers through Bloodhounds hair. "You'll do whatever I tell you and I,' he made a pause there "I'll give you the antidote, seems fair?"

The other one bit his lip before nodding gently. His eyes watered and he couldn’t help the broken cry wrenched from his lips as his mouth was forced open. The ferrous taste of his own blood barely registered before his senses were overwhelmed with the feel of cold metal against his tongue and the bitter flavor of gun oil and steel.

"Great" gently flew from his lips. "Now suck" Taller one seethed.

Bloodhound closed his eyes and began to lick at the muzzle, trying not to gag at the taste, the feel, the knowledge of exactly what he held in his mouth. It was hard and cold, the feeling of poison in his veins didn't help either. Tears hurt the corners of his eyes as he tried desperately to relax his throat. He took the barrel in until his lips stroked the trigger guard, pressing his eyes shut tighter as he reminded himself that he could still breathe, despite the intrusion in his throat. He loosened and gave himself over to the task, tongue caressing every ridge and groove of the piece. 

If he could concentrate on cataloging the sensations, simply doing as he was told, he could get through this. That was his only hope at this point. He needed to survive until someone came to find him or his attacker slipped up enough that he could steal the antidote and escape. There was an off chance that he would be let go after they had reached their goal, but there were no guarantees. He could do this, bide his time with whatever bizarre game this was, provided that this man didn’t get bored and simply pull the trigger.

No, no, it shouldn’t come to that. There was a better than 70% chance that he wasn’t interested in killing him. If he wanted him dead, he wouldn't make their deal. Or maybe it was a way to force obedience...? No, this act, this horror, on his knees fellating a piece of metal, this was all wrong...

And as that registered, his body began to betray him. He tried to duck his head but failed miserably, held in place as he was. Pulse racing, cheeks aflame with mingled anger and shame with fear.

He willed it to stop, but everything, the helplessness, the abject humiliation and terror of this position, it was too much and he could feel the hardness of his growing length against his thigh.

And it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I never said that you can enjoy it” his torturer hissed, running the tip of one polished boot over the stretched fabric of Bloodhound’s trousers.

The mysterious one shuddered, his mouth still too full to make any reply.

The gun was yanked free and wiped across Sherlock’s face, a line of pink-tinged saliva smeared over his cheek. Then a low chuckle and Bloodhound felt the metal digging in at the base of his skull as the assailant pushed the back of his head with the gun.

Distantly, Bloodhound registered the sound of a zip being lowered.

He looked like a wild thing, pupils blown wide in those secret eyes.

"You look like a slut with your spit smeared all over your face, don’t you think?” Mirage ran his other hand through the other's hair licking his lips.

“Forgive me allfather,” Bloodhound began.

“Sorry, but...” He dragged him forward, sliding deep between his wet lips, burying himself in the tight heat of Bloodhound’s mouth. "You're praying to the wrong person" He savored the sensation a moment before he pulled back and thrust again. Faster and faster he used Bloodhound’s mouth for his pleasure, a warm, wet, tight hole made for fucking, all the more delicious by the moans and whimpers of his slave.

Bloodhound did his best to avoid touching the underside of the thick cock that was currently rubbing on his tongue filling his mouth and throat but gave up, settling for concentrating on breathing as he was used thoroughly.

There was a small click as his assailant thumbed the hammer and Bloodhound groaned, the muffled sound caught between pain and excitement. The vibrations felt exquisite and the man couldn’t hold off any longer. He thrust deep and held Bloodhound in place. “You were absolutely made for this, weren’t you?” he growled out as he came.

Bloodhound hummed in response, neither quite confirmation or disapproval, merely responding to the other’s voice, drowning in the chemical haze of despair and pain, his throat worked as he swallowed as much as he could manage.

After a moment, Mirage pulled out and tucked himself away, letting Bloodhound lean against his hip. He looked down at the mess Bloodhound has made of his own trousers and smiled to himself. He grabbed harshly at Bloodhound's hair and forced him against a tree whispering to his ear: "I'll come inside of you" as he forcefully took off his belt and lowered his trousers. 

A light shiver ran through bloodhounds spine as he began to trash around, banging at the tree and thrusting his hips back screaming "no, no, no!" over and over again.

"Oh, right!" Mirage laughed "I totally forgot! Fucking is against your religion, right?" Another low chuckle escaped his mouth "Well, I guess paradise was never meant for you~"

Completely ignoring the other one screaming and choking on his tears he grabbed Bloodhounds hips and pushed in with one sudden move. He screamed as he could feel his insides getting messed up, feeling worse and worse with every thrust, his cock rubbing against a hard surface of the tree making the pain even worse. It was no longer fine... How could he pray to his Lord after this? How could he sacrifice anything to him? He lost his pride along with his shame. He wanted to fall to the ground. He wanted to lie down and die, but he couldn't. Strong arms held him in place as the movement became quicker and quicker, leading to the end. After a few lazier pushes Mirage came inside of him. As he pulled out the hot semen started to come out, staining Bloodhound's legs and clothes. He slid down a tree and started trembling, whispering something under his breath that sounded like apologies, well, it was too late anyway.

Mirage quickly got up and after taking a grip of himself, threw the syringe with the antidote in it right beside the scared one. They made a deal and he agreed on it. It wasn't his business if he used it.

Even though he would happily play with him again.


End file.
